


We All Just Need a Little Help

by CaughtInATalespin



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Barry and Oliver are idiots, M/M, Post-Season 1 of Arrow, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-07 06:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6790237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaughtInATalespin/pseuds/CaughtInATalespin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That time Barry Allen meets his soulmate, the Hood, but the vigilante doesn't figure it out. And then Oliver Queen finally meets his soulmate, the Streak, and things get more complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! So this is my first time trying my hand at Olivarry-- on that note, I could REALLY use a beta so if you're interested hmu please :)
> 
> Basically your typical soulmate stuff with some tweaks. Words come in when the younger of the soulmate pair turns 12, faded gray Words represent one of the pair has died.
> 
> This fic starts at the beginning of Arrow Season 2, right after Felicity and Diggle have retrieved Oliver from Lian Yu (ignoring the Slade Wilson storyline for now and most of what actually happens in this season).
> 
> Stay tuned!

From the moment Nora and Henry welcomed newborn Bartholomew Henry Allen into the world, they knew their son was special. He might not have his Words yet, but he was born with bright hazel eyes wide open, gaze darting all around the sterile hospital room, much more observant than a baby ought to be. Barry’s arrival was a joyous affair, bringing together both sides of the family and their close family friends, the Wests. And for a short time, much too brief, all was right with the world.

* * *

“Mommy, how come you let Daddy scribble all over your arm? His handwriting’s so messy!”

Nora smiled at her seven-year old son. “Barry, honey, Daddy didn’t write these,” she said, extending her bicep. “These are my Words. They appeared when I was twelve. Everyone gets them as they grow up—you’ll get yours soon too, sweetie, you’ll see.”

Barry stared at the letters on her arm.

“But what do they mean?”

“They’re the first thing your dad, my soulmate, ever said to me. Your Words will be different, sweetheart—they’ll be the first thing _your_ soulmate says to _you_ when you meet them for the first time. Doesn’t that sound special?”

The little boy’s brow furrowed in confusion. “But _why_ do we get them?”

Nora paused. “Because sometimes people can be stubborn. Sometimes we don’t see good things that are right in front of us… sometimes we all just need a little help.”

* * *

Oliver Jonas Queen’s birth was a proper spectacle. Not because the Queens wanted it to be (far from it), but as a well-established family in Starling City, there was no way to avoid the media frenzy. And so it was that Ollie was born into a world of flashing cameras and “no comments” and life under the microscope of the public eye.

(“Don’t let anyone see your Words when they come in,” Robert Queen told his six-year old son one day. “If you’re lucky, they’ll be in a place you can hide easily.”

Puzzled but eager to please his father, young Ollie had nodded, taking the advice to heart. But it was years later when he finally understood _why_ , as he buried his dad’s rotting corpse on a godforsaken island—his parents hadn’t been soulmates after all.)

By age seven he’d mastered the art of the charmingly earnest fake smile, by fifteen he’d figured out how to charm the pants off anything on two legs. And when at seventeen his Words suddenly came in, curling around his right hipbone in a tight possessive spiral (his soulmate must have turned twelve then), Ollie barely even looked at them.

But it wasn’t until he was boarding a boat at twenty-two years old and running away from too-much-too-fast commitment with a girlfriend he thought he loved that he realized the real problem. He’d gone so long wearing a mask in front of everyone else that he didn’t even know how to be the man underneath anymore.

Then Lian Yu happened and he learned the best way to hide ( _survive_ ) was to wear a mask in plain sight.

And five years later, when Oliver came back ( _Ollie_ was long dead and gone, buried under the sun-bleached bones of his father), armed with a book of reckoning and filled with dark purpose, he knew what he had to do.

By some amazing stroke of luck he’d never met his soulmate during his five years in hell. But knowing the person he was now, who he’d made himself to be, who he _had_ to be for this vigilante business to work, Oliver knew there was no room in his life for another person.

Or at least, so he told himself as he began to make a name for himself in Starling City as the Hood. It had nothing to do with the quiet fear he kept buried deep down. The fear that one day he’d wake up and find he’d traded away all the tattered shreds of humanity left in his soul, until there was nothing left of the person that was once Oliver Queen. Nothing left but an empty shell, a soulless monster whose sins were spelled out in black ink on someone else’s body, binding them to his doom more surely than chains.

* * *

Barry cried the morning his Words came in on his twelfth birthday. Not because he couldn’t stand the Words themselves (though “ _Easy._ _Well, you’re not dead_ ” wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped for), but because he couldn’t share them with the ones he most wanted to share them with. It was his first birthday without his mom to kiss his cheek as she served up his favorite cinnamon-spiced waffles, his first birthday without his dad to tickle him into wakefulness with a cheery “up and at em, Slugger”. It was his first birthday without his parents, without his _family_.

It wasn’t until five weeks later, when Iris broke down not-so-silently in her room next door that Barry realized things could be worse. Gripping her hand tightly, slippery with dripping tears, he stared at the faded gray script circling her delicate ankle as they sat together on her bed.

“What am I going to do, Bear?” she’d asked him in a whisper, as if afraid speaking aloud would make it more real. “If my soulmate’s gone…who’s gonna be there for me when I grow up?”

“I will,” Barry had said then without hesitation. “I’ll always be there for you, Iris.”

And if later he stroked the elegant letters across his collarbone with new reverence back in the privacy of his own room… well, Iris didn’t need to know.

* * *

_Present Day:_

Barry groaned as he stepped out into the pouring rain outside the train station. Pulling his jacket quickly over his head, the CSI squinted into the hazy downpour.

_Jeez, where are all the taxis in Starling City?_

Ducking back under an awning, Barry pulled out his phone.

 _Thank god for Uber_ , he thought as he opened the app. _At least the nearest Uber car is only…85 minutes away?! What the hell?_

Barry sighed. Captain Singh had sent him on an errand to check out evidence in Starling City for an ongoing homicide case (though Barry was sure it was mostly as punishment for having been tardy so many times last month). Of course, due to train delays (no surprise there with Barry’s luck), the CSI was already running late to his meeting with his contact at the Starling City Police Department.

Pulling up Google Maps, Barry checked the distance between the train station and the SCPD headquarters.

 _It’s less than three miles from here_ , he thought, biting his lip. _If I hurry, I should be able to get there in time if I go on foot_.

Resigning himself to a miserably wet journey, Barry set out glumly, wishing he had more protection against the downpour than a broken umbrella and a light cotton jacket.

Little did he know that his trip to the SCPD station would take him through the heart of the Glades and into dangerous territory…

* * *

_Meanwhile:_

Thunder rumbled ominously overhead as the Vigilante stealthily exited the Foundry through a concealed side door.

“Felicity,” Oliver spoke softly. “Where is Kincaid now?”

The vigilante and his team had been gathering evidence on the infamous garrotter that had somehow managed to evade the police for several days now. The serial killer’s MO was strangulation by steel wire, and he tended to target young men of similar height and build, all tall lanky brunettes, suggesting a link to his past. Kincaid had already dropped four bodies in the last three nights, but that was about to change. Because tonight the hunt was finally on.

“He’s on the move,” Felicity’s voice came through the comms, “I got him on traffic cams. He’s about a block away from Faith and Flower, heading in the direction of an abandoned laundromat from the looks of it.”

Oliver smiled darkly.

Kickstarting his bike, he roared out of the alleyway behind Verdant.

“You sure you don’t want Dig in on this?” Felicity asked for the third time that night.

The vigilante growled. “Felicity, we talked about this. I’m fine—no need to bother him tonight. I’ll call if I need help with clean-up, but otherwise let him take a night off.”

“Fine fine, I know,” came the reply. “Just wondering when my night off is then,” she added jokingly.

Oliver was silent for a moment.

_Maybe it’s asking too much of her to jump right back into this again. I still can’t believe she and Dig flew all the way to Lian Yu to get me._

“If you need time to yourself…” he began.

“What? No, I was kidding!” she squeaked. “You know I’m happy to help you,” Felicity told him sincerely.

Another pause, then:

“Thank you.”

Felicity smiled at the subtle warmth in his tone.

“Of course.”

* * *

Barry felt like the biggest idiot on the planet. The biggest rain-drenched, freezing, at-risk-of-pneumonia idiot ever.

He shivered against the bitter wind chill as he pulled his thin coat around him more securely.

_Okay, so maybe I should have just waited at the train station and called into SCPD to explain the situation. It’s not like they couldn’t have sent someone to get me._

With the world coming down in streaming sheets all around him, he never heard the purposeful footsteps shadowing his every move.

The only warning he had was a light pressure around his neck and suddenly he couldn’t breathe anymore.

* * *

“Oli—sorry, uh, Vigilante, hurry,” Felicity said worriedly, “I lost eyes on him but he followed a guy into the alleyway behind the Laundromat. By the way, we need to come up with a better name for you than 'the Hood'. It makes you sound like a cross between a cheap Robin Hood off-Broadway character and a dementor.”

Rolling his eyes, Oliver gritted his teeth as he pushed himself faster over the rooftops along Faith and Flower.

Hearing signs of a struggle, he looked down to see a young man flailing in the grip of the burly Kincaid in a desperate but unsuccessful attempt to free himself.

“I see him,” he said as he shot a grappling wire down to the ground.

Quickly taking stock of his opponent, Oliver took careful aim as he shot an arrow into the garrotter’s exposed right forearm.

With an earsplitting shriek, Kincaid dropped his weapon and the person attached to it.

When the serial killer made to yank out the arrow, Oliver grinned sharply.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. That arrow is embedded in your median nerve—damage it any more and you won’t be able to move that hand again.”

Stalking forward lithely the green archer knocked out the garrotter with one well-placed punch to the temple before securing him tightly with zip ties and wire rope.

“We’re good, Felicity. I’ll deliver Kincaid to Lance and deal with…everything else,” he finished with a glance at the prone body of the garrotter’s would-be-victim.

“Copy that,” came the response. “See you back soon.”

Turning to the figure lying unmoving on the ground, the vigilante crouched as he gently felt for a pulse along the young man’s bruised neck.

Oliver let out a slight breath of relief as he found one.

Resting an emerald-gloved hand against the man’s bloodied face, he took a second to admire the delicate cheekbones and full lips before he was struck by a sudden desire to see if they were as soft as they looked.

 _What, no_ , he thought, alarmed.

Leaning back, Oliver pressed his fingers to the man’s spinal cord for a brief second, using the trick Yao Fei had inadvertently taught (used on) him on Lian Yu.

Barry sat up with a start. His piercing hazel eyes shot wide open, glancing frantically around before landing on the hooded figure before him.

The vigilante ducked his head to hide his face as lightning flashed overhead.

 _I need to figure out a better identity concealer_ , he thought. _I hate greasepaint_.

Opening his mouth to speak, Barry choked as he struggled to breathe properly.

“Easy,” the other man rumbled.

Oliver’s lips thinned in anger as the the harsh alleyway lighting illuminated the full extent of mottled bruising around the younger man’s neck.

“Well,” he ground out wryly, trying to keep his Hood voice gentle, “you’re not dead.”

Barry's eyes grew wider, if possible, at his words.

The CSI started to reply before being hit with a series of wracking coughs.

As he gasped for air, Barry thought he saw the hooded archer’s lips turn down slightly.

“Sorry, but this is for the best,” the vigilante said apologetically as he stepped back and knocked an arrow. “Don’t want you to make your injuries any worse.”

 _Wait what_ , was all Barry had time to think before he was hit with the sedative in the arrowhead.

Oliver quickly reached out to catch him as he began to slump to the ground, unconscious.

 _He really is beautiful_ , the archer admitted silently as he watched the raindrops slide off the younger man’s delicate eyelids, washing the blood off like a gentle caress.

Noticing the rain-drenched state of the other man’s clothes, Oliver straightened abruptly. He needed to get the kid to a hospital before hypothermia set in or a near-garroting would be the least of the man’s injuries.

“Felicity,” he said, touching his gloved hand to his ear device, “Tell him sorry, but have Dig pick up Kincaid and deliver him to Lance. I’m headed towards Starling General—his victim needs medical attention.”

“Um, whoa, hold up. What about keeping a low profile? Don’t think there’s any way to be super subtle about it if you barge through the doors of the ER as the Hood.”

 “I don’t care,” Oliver snapped. _Where did that come from?_

He carefully positioned the younger man’s body on the bike in front of him as he swung his leg over the leather seat. “Not this time.”

His tone brooked no argument.

“All right, sending Dig over now, then,” Felicity returned cautiously.

“Good.”

Leaving the garrotter’s unconscious form securely bound in the alley behind him, the vigilante tightened his grip around Barry’s torso as he sped off into the stormy night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for your amazing response to this piece so far! I'm finishing up my final term ever of college (eek), so I'll be pretty busy in these last few weeks, but I'll do my best to keep updating in a timely manner! 
> 
> Reviews and feedback are much appreciated <3

_Three hours later_

Gasping into wakefulness, Barry sat bolt upright, wincing as he realized the bed beneath him wasn’t his regular soft feather mattress back home but a cold hard hospital gurney.

 _What the hell…_ he closed his eyes for a second before the events of the night came rushing back to him.

His eyes flew open.

_Oh my god. I met my soulmate. My soulmate who is the Vigilante._

Struggling to get his suddenly short breath under control, Barry flopped back against the pillows, groaning softly.

At once, a nurse appeared from around the corner.

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Do you need more morphine?” she asked him briskly.

“What? What do you mean?” he said, confused.

The harried-looking woman frowned. “You have severe bruising to your neck in a pattern consistent with assisted non-manual strangulation, a twisted ankle, and a slight head wound. Luckily, no concussion and no breaks or fractures,” she told him.

Barry nodded slowly.

“But what—I mean, how did I get here?” he asked. “Can you tell me what happened?”

The nurse hesitated, her impatient demeanor giving way into something approaching wonder. “You… the Hood saved you from a garroting. He brought you here himself, which, let me tell you, almost _never_ happens, strangely enough, considering all the people he’s saved.”

Barry blinked, surprised at that bit of information. “I guess he doesn’t want to risk his identity,” he guessed.

“I suppose so,” the woman replied, eying Barry shrewdly as if wondering what he had done to merit the archer breaking precedent.

Barry smiled awkwardly, trying to stem the rising panic he felt now that he was more awake.

“Can I—,” his voice cracked. “Can I call my family? I just want to make sure they know I’m okay and—oh no!” he exclaimed, sitting back up. “I was supposed to be at a meeting at SCPD!”

“Calm down,” the nurse ordered sternly, pushing him back down against the covers. “Someone contacted the SCPD after the Vigilante brought you in here, so they know you’re indisposed. Now that you’re awake, someone should be by soon to take your statement. As for your family, we’ve already called your next-of-kin, a Joe West and an Iris West. They’re taking the evening train out of Central City.”

Barry winced. Joe was never going to let him leave Central City again after all this was over and done with. Which, he realized with growing trepidation, was a problem now that he knew his soulmate lived in Starling City.

 _How am I going to tell Joe that_ the Vigilante  _is my soulmate?_ he thought, panicking. _Joe thinks he’s a menace! Does the Vigilante even know he’s my soulmate? God, how could I be so stupid, I didn’t—couldn’t even say anything to him earlier! How will—_

“You just stay here and rest, Mr. Allen,” the nurse said, breaking into his racing thoughts. “Your family should be here soon.”

Seeing no other alternative, Barry leaned back dazedly against the lumpy hospital pillows.

 _Iris_ , he thought desperately as he struggled to get his churning emotions under control. _I need to talk to Iris. She’d know what to do with this whole mess_ …

* * *

_1 week later_

“Shut up.”

“Iris.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s true! What do you want me to say,” Barry said in frustration as his pacing continued to wear a hole into the carpet of Iris’ childhood bedroom.

Sitting on her old comforter, Iris shook her head, still processing.

“I just… only you, Barry Allen, would have some crazy costumed maniac as your soulmate.”

Barry shrugged helplessly.

“It could be worse. It could have been the Man in Yellow and then I would really be fucked,” he said darkly.

Iris grimaced.

“I don’t really know what to say,” she said at last, looking up at her best friend. "You didn't tell Dad yet, did you?"

Shaking his head, Barry sat down on the bed with a heavy sigh.

“The Vigilante doesn’t even know I’m his soulmate, Iris. God, how do I even tell him!” he burst out suddenly. “I don’t even know who he is! And he probably has tons of deluded rescuees throwing themselves at him all the time claiming to be his soulmate, no way he’d pay attention to me if I try to reach out somehow,” Barry said, beginning to wring his hands. “Hell, I bet he’d try to stick an arrow in me before I get a chance to talk to him— _again_!”

“Bear, stop,” Iris said, reaching over to settle a palm over his nervous hands.

“We’ll figure it out,” she told him soothingly. “I’ll help you.”

Barry slumped, letting out his breath in a whoosh.

He leaned against her side gently. “Thanks, Iris.”

“Of course,” she said, gently brushing his hair away from his face. “I’m always here for you too, Bear.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

While Barry had loved Iris for a long time when they’d been kids, after living with her for so many years, that fervent love and adoration had transformed, no less intense, but into something softer and more… familial. Now, she was, quite simply, his best friend and sister. He was just glad he’d figured it out before he’d made a fool of himself.

“You just need to figure out a way to get his attention,” Iris finally said, looking thoughtful. “But in a way that shows you’re not a threat. Something that’ll make him curious about who you are—enough to want to meet you. Then you can say your piece.”

“What, so I’m supposed to—to what, _woo_ , the Vigilante?”

It sounded more absurd when he said it out loud.

“You got a better idea?” Iris demanded.

Barry shook his head slowly. “Actually, no, that’s not a bad plan.”

He brightened suddenly. “And I think I might just have an idea that could work…”

* * *

Felicity let out a long low whistle.

“Looks like someone’s got an admirer,” she sing-songed from her chair.

“What are you talking about, Felicity?” Oliver said with a grunt as he parried Diggle’s blow to the shoulder.

“Someone left a poem for you on a city sidewalk. Well, not _you_ you, but Hood you.”

Oliver stopped short, allowing Diggle a get a lucky punch in.

“What?”

“Here, look,” she said, turning the computer screen towards the two men.

“ _Faith blooms slowly_

_And yet can_

_Flower in darkness_ ,” Diggle read off as he wiped his face with a waiting towel. “That’s one hell of a haiku.”

“It’s not a haiku,” the vigilante replied absently, squinting at the screen. “It’s missing five syllables.”

“Didn’t you drop out of, like, three Ivy League schools?”

“Four, actually,” Oliver returned matter-of-factly. “How do you know this is addressed to the Hood?”

“Here, look closely,” Felicity said, zooming in on the image. “The letters are written in dark green paint and stylized like arrows.”

“Why would anyone write the Vigilante a poem?” she wondered aloud. “Not that it’s not romantic or anything!” she hastened to assure the vigilante. “It’s kinda… cute?”

“Felicity,” Oliver all but growled out. “Do I look like I care whether it’s cute or not.”

Diggle chuckled. “I know, Oliver, but I have to say this takes fan worship of the Hood to a whole new level.”

“What if it’s not fan worship though,” the vigilante said abruptly.

The other man rolled his eyes good naturedly. “Look, man, I know you’d much rather this be some secret message than a romantic poem, god forbid, but—,”

“No, I think he’s right,” Felicity interjected suddenly with rising excitement. “I think it could be a skip code.”

“A what?”

Both men turned to her in confusion.

“A skip—god, don’t either of you watch _Sherlock_? Seriously, it’s still been on air since you’ve been back, Oliver. You have no excuse.”

“Felicity.”

“Oh, right, sorry! So you read the first word, and then every three afterwards to find the message.”

All of them leaned towards the screen to take a closer look.

“Faith and Flower?” Diggle said, puzzled.

The archer tilted his head in consideration. “Where have I heard that before?”

The three teammates thought in silence for a moment.

Felicity gasped quietly. “That’s where you went the night we stopped Kincaid!”

Oliver nodded, having just come to the same realization himself. “Right. Can you see if Kincaid escaped from prison? This could be a message from him.”

“Hang on, let me check,” their resident IT expert said as she scanned (illegally-accessed) police records. “Nope, looks like he’s still in Iron Heights. No breakouts recently.”

Diggle hummed. “This wouldn’t fit Kincaid’s MO anyway. The guy’s a killer who chokes people to death—I can’t exactly see him running around writing poems to the Hood.”

“Either way,” Oliver said decisively, “we need to check out the area. See if there are any clues that could tell us who this person is and what they might want.”

“Okay, I’ll follow you on traffic cams as best as I can,” Felicity said, already spinning around in her chair as she turned to the many monitors surrounding her.

“Good. We’ll head over. Dig?”

The other man nodded. “Let’s go.”

* * *

_20 minutes later_

“I think I might have something,” Oliver said softly across the comms as he emerged silently from the shadows surrounding Faith and Flower.

“Okay, heading your way,” Diggle replied just as quietly.

The vigilante paused as he took in the thin metal object propped up against a dark corner of the alleyway.

Slowly he approached it, bow at the ready in case he needed to make a quick getaway.

Stepping around the corner, Diggle blinked as he saw it.

“Is that what I think it is?”

The hooded archer picked up the emerald shaft cautiously. “An arrow,” he confirmed. “It’s not one of mine.”

“Could it be Merlyn’s?” Felicity’s tinny voice piped in through their earpieces.

“No,” Diggle said as he leaned over to get a closer look. “Are you sure, Oliver? I’d say it looks a lot like what the Hood uses.”

“It’s not, though,” Oliver said with certainty. “A close replica maybe, but I know my own arrows. It feels different, better balanced actually,” he admitted grudgingly, “though not by much.”

He examined it carefully for another second.

“Shaft’s made of something else.”

“Oliver,” came Dig’s voice quietly from behind him.

The vigilante spun around, weapon at the ready.

“What.”

“Looks like they left something else.” He bent down to pick up a small metallic green arrowhead.

Oliver reached out to take the object and weighed it in his gloved palm.

His eyes narrowed.

“There’s something inside.”

Quickly setting the arrowhead back down on the ground, the vigilante pulled out a knife and smashed it hilt-first against the object, careful to look away as it shattered.

“There’s… there’s a message,” Dig noted in surprise as the hooded archer extracted a small slip of paper from the arrowhead fragments.

_‘If you switched to aluminum-carbon composite arrows you would have far better penetration.  
Stay safe._

\- _Sincerely Yours’_

Felicity snorted as Oliver read the message aloud.

“I think you penetrate just fine.”

She groaned. “Wow, okay, me and my big mouth are shutting up now.”

Oliver didn’t even crack a smile.

“Aluminum-carbon composite. That must be what this arrow’s made of,” he murmured in quiet fascination as he examined it anew.

“But who would want to help outfit the Hood? And why bring him here?”

Diggle sighed. “All good questions, Felicity.”

* * *

“I can’t believe you actually reached out to the Vigilante with a love poem. Typical Barry, even wooing a dangerous archer, you’re such a sap.”

“What—no, it’s a skip code! He should be able to figure these things out, Iris!”

“Yeah, because every masquerading hero watches _Sherlock_ ,” she rolled her eyes sarcastically. “Not everyone’s a nerd like you, Bear.”

“Well, if he doesn’t like _Sherlock_ , I don’t think I’d want him as a soulmate anyway,” he joked weakly.

His friend’s expression softened, taking in his worried face. “Oh, Bear, I’m kidding. He’s the Vigilante. I’m sure he figured it out.”

Barry shrugged. “At least, I’m hoping someone on his team did. I’m pretty sure he has partners.”

He bit his lip. “I hope he likes it. The arrow I left him. But what if he thinks I’m questioning his methods? O-or gets insulted that I don’t think his gear’s good enough and—”

“Barry,” Iris interrupted gently. “It was a very thoughtful gift,” she reassured him. “I’m sure he’ll see that.”

* * *

_Meanwhile, in the Foundry_

Silence reigned in the dimly lit room as its three occupants all stared at the mysterious aluminum-carbon composite arrow in front of them with varying levels of perplexity.

“Can I just say, one more time—,”

“Felicity—,” Oliver sighed.

“But, I mean, maybe it’s not such a bad thing?”

“How is this not a bad thing?” the vigilante shouted. “Unless they’re a fletching expert, someone’s been keeping track of me almost obsessively if they know what my gear’s _made_ of. They could be law enforcement, or worse, ARGUS! Who knows if they’ve figured out my secret identity or if they’re trying to bribe me into doing something.”

“Oliver, man, if that were the case, I don’t think writing poems and leaving anonymous technical advice in shady alleyways are quite Amanda Waller’s style, do you?”

Oliver snarled at that. “That’s true, she’s always preferred a more vicious approach to blackmail,” he spat out darkly, trying to reign in the bitter undercurrent of anger in his voice.

Diggle and Felicity exchanged looks. They still didn’t quite understand how Oliver could have had run-ins with ARGUS during the five years he had been away.

“Could it be Helena?” Diggle asked finally. “I didn’t think you two left it on very good terms.”

“We didn’t,” Oliver said wryly. “Besides, she knows my identity. There’s no reason for her to go through this whole charade.”

“Okay, seeing as we still have no good idea who it is, hear me out,” Felicity ventured again. “What if the arrow wasn’t just meant to be a gift? I’m not necessarily saying it’s got a bunch of strings attached,” the blonde added hurriedly as Oliver opened his mouth. “None that we know of yet, anyway. But until the gift-giver shows their hand, maybe just recognize it for what it is.”

“And what’s that,” the archer asked skeptically.

“A statement,” she said with dawning understanding. “See, they obviously care about your well-being. Enough to keep track of and worry about how well-armed you are, which means they must support the Hood's mission. God, now _I’m_ referring to you in the third person, which is just weird. But anyway, they didn’t booby-trap the arrow, as far as you can tell, right?”

Oliver nodded reluctantly. He was certain of that at least.

“And they’re clearly smart if they can figure out what your arrows are made of, and they must have access to good resources if they were able to custom purchase the one they gave you.”

The vigilante grimaced. “Actually, as far as I can tell, this isn’t of any known fletcher’s make. Either they must have some connections to have found a reputable fletcher underground, which is unlikely, or they assembled it themselves.”

Diggle whistled. “Damn.”

“Exactly,” Oliver said, turning to him. “Do you understand now just how dangerous whoever this person could be that we’re dealing with?”

The other man barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. “That’s not what I meant, Oliver. I meant, knowing all that, I have to agree with Felicity about this being a statement. This person must really believe in the Vigilante to go to such lengths to try to keep him alive and well,” Diggle said firmly, catching the vigilante’s eye.

Glancing away, Oliver’s unwilling gaze set upon the slip of paper beside him.

 _‘Stay safe,’_ it read.

“But _why_ ,” he stressed, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

Felicity nibbled on her pen (green, of course) in thought.

“Who knows?” she said. “I mean, why does anyone support the Hood?”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what their next move is,” Diggle said, clapping a hand on Oliver’s shoulder.

“In the meantime,” he continued, “any ideas why they would pick the site where you apprehended Kincaid as a drop-off point?”

Oliver frowned.

“No, and that’s another thing that worries me. I don’t see the connection,” he said shortly. “And I don’t like not knowing.”

“Could it just be a coincidence…?” Felicity tried.

The vigilante shook his head. “You know that in our line of work we can’t afford to chalk things up to coincidence. There’s a link somehow between that night and this anonymous… new player.”

His brow furrowed. “I just have to figure out what it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS. Still looking for a beta if anyone feels like putting up with me for the duration of this fic!! :P


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I made some general edits to the previous two chapters if you want to check em out, but if they're TL;DR, just know that no one is calling Oliver "the Arrow" yet (you'll see why this is significant in later chapters).
> 
> Also, heads up for some family feels in this chapter! Plus, a brief Raisa appearance, because I thought she was awesome and I was sad she wasn't in more episodes of the Arrow.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

_3 weeks later, in the Foundry_

“Oliver.”

“Oliver!”

Lost in thought, the shirtless man in question continued mechanically up the salmon ladder, not hearing the determined blonde IT girl standing below.

“OLIVER!”

Oliver jerked and let go of the metal bars, only catching himself in time to land on his feet due to his well-honed reflexes.

“What?” he barked.

“You know, normally I’d be all for watching you do your… uh, sexy ripple-ey muscle thing,” Felicity said, waving a hand vaguely at the metal construction in front of her, “but this is the first time I think I’ve managed to catch you off guard. Like, ever. Which, hello, is saying a lot since you’re, well, _you_. And I’m wearing pumps! Like, my definitely-not-running-from-danger ones with the super loud wooden heels,” she babbled.

“Felicity,” Oliver tried to speak patiently. “What’s your point.”

The blonde hesitated. “Are you okay?” she blurted out. “Sorry, that’s—I mean, yeah, you probably aren’t okay. You know, with Tommy and everything… but I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Well, not that you have to be!” she said hastily. “But just that you’re not doing your whole grr-I’m-totally-happy-just-shooting-people routine when really you need someone to talk to, and—okay, um that’s weird, don’t you usually interrupt me at this point?”

The vigilante was silent for a moment.

“It’s not Tommy,” he said finally. “I miss him, but… but I know I’m doing better, _am_ better, being the kind of man he and this city deserve.”

Felicity nodded earnestly. “You are. Better. I mean, not that you weren’t already great to begin with! Cuz you were—are—a great person, but… well, you know what I mean.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I’m sure Tommy would be proud of you. So would your dad.”

Oliver gave her a rare smile. “Thank you, Felicity.”

The blonde smiled back. After a second though, she sighed.

“But you have been kinda…distant, Oliver. I mean, more so than your usual Vigilante alter-ego self. I know we’ve been pretty busy with a lot of cases these past couple weeks, and things with your family are still tense, but… ” she trailed off.

The man shrugged, hoping she would drop it.

Moira Queen had been cleared of all charges at her highly publicized trial last week, but within her own family not everyone was willing to forgive her yet. Back on Lian Yu, reflecting on recent events, Oliver had finally realized the terrible position his mother had been put in. The terror in her tearful eyes as she pleaded on bloodied knees with only a picture of her children to persuade the Hood to spare her. The mind-numbing years of Malcolm’s insidious manipulations as he preyed on her fear for her children’s lives. That being said, Oliver was not so easily able to forget that her actions had played a role, however indirectly, in the death of his father. And Thea was even more unwilling to hear her mother’s side of the story. Moira’s mere complicity in Malcolm’s plan to level the Glades was enough to convince the younger Queen sibling she was better off living without a mother at all than to make peace with Moira Queen.

“I mean,” Felicity’s voice broke in again, “this wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with our anonymous gift-giver, would it? And the night we stopped Kincaid? You’ve been acting weird ever since you got that arrow.”

Oliver cursed internally. _She’s so much more damn perceptive than people give her credit for. I suppose that’s why I recruited her._

“The night _we_ stopped Kincaid?” he replied instead, arching an eyebrow.

“Wha—yes, we! Excuse you, Mr. Vigilante, I was on comms you know, and—wait, you’re changing the subject!”

“Because there’s nothing to discuss, Felicity,” Oliver said shortly. “Until our ‘gift-giver’ surfaces again, we don’t have any clues. So let’s not waste our time thinking about it.”

The IT genius huffed out a breath in exasperation.

“Fine. You might be saying that, but I know it’s been bothering you. It’s not a macho pride thing, is it? Because they figured out a better material to make arrows out of than you did?”

Oliver bristled at the implication but ignored her, moving back towards the salmon ladder.

The truth was, she was right that he’d been distracted lately, though not for the reasons she thought. Family tensions weren’t the main dilemma that had been on Oliver’s mind recently. He knew he should be more concerned about healing his family’s broken relationships— getting Thea not to leave the room every time Moira walked in would be a good start. But he couldn’t seem to get his mind off of this one confounding mystery that still refused to give way: the case of the mysterious gift-giver.

After weeks of searching for leads, the team had come up short on any viable candidates for possible Vigilante sympathizers. Their only real guesses for potential donors so far were someone close to one of Kincaid’s previous victims or one of the garrotter’s enemies, few as they were. Barring that, an inspired witness to the scene of the crime the night the Vigilante stopped Kincaid by Faith and Flower. That seemed highly unlikely though, given Oliver didn’t recall seeing any lurkers.

Not having figured out the identity of the arrow-giver was proving inordinately distracting to Oliver. He felt there was more to the situation than he could put his finger on, but he chalked it up to worry that this unknown player was simply waiting to make their move. Still, for some reason, the not-knowing made him feel more unsettled than he should be.

 _Enough_ , he told himself firmly with some amount of guilt. _I need to check in on Thea and Mom. And soon._

* * *

_Meanwhile, in the Central City Police Department_

“Hey Bear. You’re up here pretty late.”

Not hearing his foster father walk into his lab, the CSI in question startled badly, nearly knocking over the simmering green liquid in the flask before him.

He whirled around.

“H-hi Joe! What, um,” he cleared his throat. “What can I do for you?”

The detective fixed him with an unimpressed look.

“You can start by telling me what’s got you in this state. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been acting strangely for the past few weeks.”

Barry ran a nervous hand through his hair as he tried to smile nonchalantly. From Joe’s unwavering stare, he knew he probably hadn’t succeeded.

“Oh, well, um. If it seems like I’ve been acting weird I guess it’s just been because, uh, you know, this whole near miss with Kincaid has got me pretty shaken.”

Seeing an opportunity to talk up his soulmate to his likely-to-be-disapproving foster father, he continued.

“I mean, I never thought the Vigilante of all people would save me, you know? It was pretty incredible.”

To his surprise, Joe grimaced and nodded, seeming to agree.

“I know what you mean, Bear. Starling City media’s been saying the Hood’s turned over a new leaf, but I never bought that. He’s been wanted for murder in over ten different cases dating back the past two years. Ain’t no way a killer like that’s gonna change his spots. You just count yourself lucky he didn’t consider you collateral damage.”

Barry went from nodding at the beginning of Joe’s rant to wincing emphatically by the end of it.

_Shit, that’s not what I want him to think!_

“But I mean,” he tried, “the Vigilante’s saved a lot of people—he’s saved me! Doesn’t that make him a hero, Joe?”

Joe narrowed his eyes. “No, son,” he said harshly. “That still doesn’t make him anything but a man living outside the law. He might think he’s doing his city some good, but all he’s really doing is letting other people get hurt. Look, he’s active for barely a year and boom! There’s a terrorist attack on Starling.”

“You don’t know that’s even his fault!” Barry argued.

Joe raised his hands in surrender.

“Maybe not, but I do know you are getting way more worked up about this than I thought you would,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

Barry flinched, trying not to look guilty.

The detective sighed.

“What’s really going on, Bear? Is it something to do with Iris?”

The younger man jerked, eyes going wide with surprise. He didn’t want Iris to get in trouble with Joe because of his own crazy plans to woo the Vigilante.

“Wh-what? Why would this have something to do with Iris? I mean, whatever ‘this’ is. Which is nothing, because nothing’s going on,” he babbled.

Joe just rolled his eyes.

“Please, Barry. I’m not stupid. I know you and Iris are as close as they get, but the two of you have been spending an awful lot of time together lately, even by your usual standards.”

“Uh….,” Barry hesitated, not sure where Joe was going with this.

Surprisingly, Joe chuckled after a few seconds and clapped his shoulder lightly.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice the two kids living under my roof—well, one of you at least,—  getting together? It’s been a long time comin’.”

Barry sputtered. “Wh-what, no! No, no, no, Joe, we’re just friends! Um, I mean like super close best friends, and Iris is… amazing, but still, nothing’s going on between us, I swear.”

Joe frowned. “Really? I was so sure… you know I won’t actually shoot you if you tell me you’re dating my daughter. I love you too much to actually do that,” he joked.

His foster son laughed nervously. “No, I know. But I’m serious, we’re not together.”

The detective scrutinized him carefully for a second before nodding.

“Alright, if you say so.”

Barry sighed in relief as Joe stretched and moved towards the exit.

His foster father paused at the door and looked back.

“Just… don’t wait too long to tell her how you feel,” he said gently.

Shocked, Barry just nodded dumbly.

Joe gave him a slight nod and left.

Sitting there processing what just happened, Barry shook his head and sagged back in his chair.

 _Maybe Joe thinking Iris and I are together isn’t such a bad thing_ , he thought, mind working quickly. _Giving him what he seems to think is a plausible explanation for my distractedness just might keep him from looking too closely at what we’re doing._

He winced.

_Not sure how Iris will feel about that. Still, I’m pretty sure Joe’ll figure it out sooner or later. Better solve this soulmate business soon, before I have to start coming up with other excuses._

* * *

_The next day, in the Queen Residence_

“Have a good night, Raisa.”

“Good night, Mr. Oliver. Thank you for giving me the night off—I hope you and your family have a wonderful time,” she replied warmly.

Oliver’s answering smile was soft and genuine.

In truth, he had told his mother that he wanted to cook dinner for her and Thea, to show off some of the few hard-earned skills he’d learned on the island (the few she knew of anyway). Unable to refuse her son, Moira had reluctantly agreed, thereby taking Raisa off dinner duty for the night.

“You deserve it,” Oliver told Raisa seriously. “Time to get away from us Queens and all of our drama.”

Raisa frowned slightly as she reached forward to cup his cheek.

“Now you listen to me, young man. I have never once been sorry to spend time in your company, despite whatever ‘drama’ you might have, as you put it. And anyone who says they are clearly does not know what kind of person you are.”

Oliver swallowed past the slight lump of emotion that appeared without warning.

“And what kind of person is that,” he asked shakily.

Raisa gave him a fond look. “You were once a good boy. Now you are a good man,” she declared. “Do not worry. You can fix what is broken in your family. You _will_.”

Startled, Oliver stared at her, surprised she had seen through his plan where no one else had.

“Thank you,” he finally said after a moment.

She smiled at him. “You will make your soulmate very happy someday,” she said as she turned to leave.

Oliver winced. _I certainly will, provided they never have the misfortune to meet me_.

Still, he realized with some sadness as Raisa left, despite their apparently divergent views on soulmates, he sometimes he felt she understood him better than his own mother did.

 _Perhaps it’s time we change that_ , he thought as he began to look for ingredients in the pantry.

* * *

_3 hours later_

“Wow, smells good in here,” Thea said, walking into the kitchen. “Like something that might actually be edible!”

Oliver rolled his eyes at his sister’s expression of mock amazement.

“Keep it up Speedy, and I’ll make sure you get served last,” he threatened.

“Ollie!”

“Oh, and you’ll get the smallest portion too.”

Thea glared at him for a second before relenting. She looked around at the surprisingly not-so-messy countertops curiously.

“What are we having anyway?” she questioned as she poked at various ingredients.

“Don’t touch anything,” her brother ordered sternly. He gently batted her wandering fingers away from the crushed basil flakes.

Thea made a face. “Is that how you survived on the island,” she teased. “Growl at everyone who gets too close and hope they leave you alone?”

Oliver stilled, ceasing his rapid-fire chopping of garlic.

“No,” he said quietly. “You hide as well as you can for as long as you can. And you hope to god they don’t find you, because they sure as hell won’t be leaving you alone.”

Silence reigned in the kitchen for several tense seconds, quiet but for the gentle sizzling of the saucepan.

“I’m sorry,” a shaky voice whispered.

Oliver glanced up at his sister, alarmed to see her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Thea, no, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have—“

“No, really,” she interrupted him. “I know I haven’t been very good about trying to understand what you went through on the island. I can’t believe I blamed you even! For not accepting me, how I’ve changed while you were gone. But the truth is,” she choked out, “I think I’m more mad at myself for what I let myself become.”

Dropping his chopping knife, Oliver strode over to his sister and wrapped her in a tight hug.

“You could never disappoint me, Thea,” he breathed against her ear. “I understand— when Dad and I disappeared, you were under so much pressure, grieving, just trying to live your life. But I loved you six years ago just as you were, and I love you six years later just as you are now. You’re my sister, and nothing’s going to change that.”

He stroked a hand gently over Thea’s wavy tresses as she cried silently against his chest.

As he felt her tears subside, he decided it was time to broach the real elephant in the room.

He gently unwound her arms from around his torso.

“Thea, I know you think what Mom did was unforgiveable,” he began, “but trust me, she was under Malcolm’s thumb for years, living in fear every day for her children’s lives. Surely you can try to understand making bad choices when faced with impossible decisions.”

“Yeah,” Thea scowled, “except _my_ bad choices hurt _me_ the most. Hers wiped out hundreds of innocent people’s lives.”

Oliver sighed. “No, her choice in the end was to come clean, to compromise herself so that others might take heed of her warning and run.”

“Well, it took her long enough to decide that half of this city was worth saving,” she snarled. “Did she never stop to think earlier about how many people could have died?”

“Speedy—”

“What about all the people who could have lost—who did lose their soulmates? Or all the Matches yet to be made, never to happen? Did they not matter to her? What they would’ve gone through?” Thea spat vehemently.

Bemused by her reaction, Oliver hesitated as the pieces began to fall into place.

“Thea,” he said slowly. “Is that what this is really about? Have you… did you meet… is this about your soulmate?”

His sister paled.

“Wh-what? What are you talking about?”

Oliver’s suspicions began to solidify.

“It is, isn’t it? You know who they are…” It hit him suddenly. “They lived in the Glades, didn’t they?”

Thea nodded numbly. “Roy,” she breathed out shakily. “Roy Harper. The Vigilante saved him last year. He was… we were…”

Oliver’s eyes went wide. “Is he…”

“What? No, he’s fine, he’s alive. But Ollie, you don’t understand what it was like,” she said, eyes beginning to fill with tears again.

“After Mom made her announcement, I ran to the Glades as quickly as I could. I didn’t even stop to take a car, I was so panicked. And then when I found Roy, he was seconds away from being shot in the middle of an alleyway!” she sobbed. “If I’d come even a minute later I know all I’d have found would’ve been his dead body bleeding out in front of me!”

“Thea…” Oliver reached out a hand to comfort his sister but she shied away.

“No, but then,” she continued, eyes blazing, “he had to play the hero and decide to stay back and save everyone else stuck in the Glades. Like he’s the fucking Vigilante. Meanwhile, he makes me leave, tells me I have to get to safety without him.”

She swallowed hard. (Oliver’s estimation of Roy rose slightly hearing of the kid’s regard for his sister’s wellbeing. He knew that being soulmates alone wasn’t enough to guarantee someone would put their partner’s safety before their own.)

Finally moving forward to grip her brother’s arm tightly, Thea looked up at Oliver through wet lashes.

“Ollie,” she confided more quietly now, “I could barely think, barely _move_ , I was so worried that Roy wouldn’t make it. And even with Mom’s last-minute warning… he could very well have died! I’m not even twenty, and my soulmate could’ve been lost to me forever! And I can’t just forget that. Can’t forgive Mom for what could’ve happened.”

Oliver bit his tongue.

“I’m not asking you to forget it, Thea,” he said gently. “I can’t pretend to know what it’s like, how it feels being afraid to lose your soulmate like that. But I do think you know, deep down, that Malcom’s the one who’s really to blame here. Not Mom. She would _never_ knowingly do anything that’d cause you to lose your soulmate.”

Shoulders slumping, Thea nodded wordlessly. “What she did was still wrong, though,” she insisted stubbornly.

“I know,” Oliver assured her. “But would you at least please be willing to act civilly towards her? Even if you’re not ready to hear her out yet?”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever be willing to hear her out,” his sister muttered. “But fine.”

“Good,” he said, smiling slightly.

There was a brief pause, broken when Thea suddenly exhaled loudly.

“Ugh, okay enough sappy stuff for now,” she complained. “Give me that spoon and let me taste whatever you’re making—that’s what I came down here for after all.”

“What, you didn’t just want to keep me company?” Oliver laughed.

Thea rolled her eyes.

“You wish. Now give me that ladle,” she ordered imperiously.

Her brother handed it over obligingly.

Taking a tentative sip of the concoction, Thea nearly collapsed as she doubled over, coughing.

Running to grab milk from the fridge, she gulped the whole thing down straight from the carton.

“Jesus, Ollie!” she croaked when she was no longer in danger of busting a lung, “what the _hell_ did you put in this chili? One more bite and there won’t be anything left of me before dinner!”

Oliver frowned. “That bad, huh?” he asked, studying the contents of the stove pot appraisingly. “I guess I could add some oyster crackers or saltines,” he mused.

“Will they make it less spicy?” Thea coughed hopefully.

“No, but the extra flavor they give the dish will be worth it,” he replied, grinning.

His sister groaned and dropped her head with a defeated thump against the countertop.

After a second she raised her eyes and fixed him with an unreadable expression.

“Ollie,” she began hesitantly. “You didn’t… I mean, you never met your soulmate while you were gone, did you?”

Oliver tensed. “No, Speedy, I didn’t.”

To his surprise, she smiled slightly in relief.

“Good,” she said.

At her brother’s perplexed expression, she explained. “Even if not everyone you met on Lian Yu was a crazy psychopath, finding your soulmate in a place like that?” She shivered. “It’s hard enough trying to make things work with someone in a place like Starling—I can’t imagine what the strain would’ve done to both of you if you’d met on the island.”

Oliver forced a smile. “When did you become so wise, Speedy?” he teased, ignoring the pang of discomfort he felt as his sister’s words hit too close to home.

Thea turned red.

“Shut up.”

 (She later swore the blush was due to the ridiculously spicy chili and nothing else.)

* * *

_Meanwhile, in Barry's apartment_

“Dad thinks we’re WHAT?!”

“I know right?”

Barry shrugged helplessly.

“I have no idea where he got that notion,” he told her honestly. “Seriously, I love you, Iris, but you’re like my sister.”

Iris nodded emphatically. “Same, Bear. You’re totally like my little brother.”

“Yeah, I—wait, hey! But I’m older than you!”

Iris rolled her eyes. “By like barely a month. Besides, you still act like a little kid half the time,” she joked.

Barry trained his puppy eyes on her in a mock pout. “You certainly play the role of the bossy older sister,” he said with a sad exaggerated sigh.

“That’s because I know better than you,” she replied loftily, reaching over to pat his cheek.

They both grinned at each other.

“Okay, but for real,” Barry said, “we need to pick up the pace on ‘Operation: Court the Vigilante’ or Joe will be on to us soon.”

Iris snickered. “I’m sorry, ‘ _court_ ’?”

Barry blushed.

His best friend decided to give him a break.

“Okay, okay. What were you thinking?”

“Well,” Barry ventured, “I’m working on a possible gift idea at the moment, but I think it might still take a little while to figure out.”

Iris hummed. “Okay, way to be super cryptic, you nerd. Do you have any other ideas for the meantime then?”

Barry bit his lip. “Kind of?”

“Lay it on me.”

“I was just thinking,” he began, “the whole point of the gifts isn’t just to show the Vigilante that I care about him, right? And that I’m trustworthy and all that. I mean, I eventually want to give him enough clues that he can figure out who I am if he chooses to.”

“Right.”

“So what if I give him something that uses my expertise as a CSI?”

Iris hesitated.

Noticing her pause, Barry started to worry.                                                     

“What, what is it?”

Iris shook her head slowly. “I’m not saying it’s a bad idea necessarily, but just be careful about making your connection to the police known so soon, Bear. You don’t want to scare him off if he thinks you have an ulterior motive, like lulling him into a false sense of security to bring him in.”

“Oh,” Barry said, looking shocked. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“And as much as he’s your soulmate,” she added gently, “you can’t know what he’ll do with the information if he realizes you’re with the police.”

Barry frowned. “What, like he’ll try to blackmail me into doing something? He wouldn’t do that, Iris!”

She held up her palms in a placating gesture. “I don’t think it’s that likely either, Bear. But it’s still a possibility we have to consider.”

Barry nodded reluctantly. “I guess so.”

Noticing her almost-brother’s crestfallen expression, Iris felt bad.

“Tell me what you were thinking of though,” she coaxed.

Barry looked sideways at her. “I wanted to make some antidotes. You know, for poisons or toxins the Vigilante might encounter. News reports suggest he already clashed with Deadshot a while back, a merc who laces his bullets with curare.”

“But if he’s already come into contact with dangerous substances before and presumably had the resources to treat himself, does he really extra antidotes?”

Barry shrugged. “I’m pretty sure he has partners who look out for his basic medical needs, considering he can’t exactly go to the hospital. But I would still feel better if he had a more immediate source of cures, in case they can’t get to him on time. In his line of work, I figure my soulmate’s not all that good at staying safe,” he finished quietly.

Iris felt her heart warm at her friend’s obvious concern for his soulmate’s wellbeing.

 _Whoever he is, this Vigilante better realize how lucky he is to have Barry_ , she thought fiercely. _Or I’ll kick his ass, fight training or no_.

“So… what do you think?” Barry’s voice broke in nervously.

“I like the idea, actually,” she told him reassuringly. “It’s not really something that requires forensic science-specific knowledge. Plus, I think with this gift, you might also have a chance to add something else, a more personal touch. Something… sentimental,” she finished, looking thoughtful.

Barry looked skeptical. “I’m not sure the Vigilante would appreciate sentimentality,” he said at last.

“He might if the gift’s still practical enough.”

“What do you mean, Iris?” Barry asked, confused. He eyed the grin starting to take over her face warily.

She beamed.

“Do you remember that time senior year when I beat Tony Woodward out for the top grade in woodworking class?”

* * *

_Four days later, in Queen Consolidated_

Consciously refraining from tapping his foot impatiently, Oliver tried to keep his face impassive as he listened to the Queen Consolidated board members drone on and on about this quarter’s predictions. Really, he knew he owed it to Walter to pay better attention, seeing as the other man had practically rebuilt the company from the ground up after the financial fallout that had followed Moira’s confession. Knowing that didn’t make him hate these meetings any less.

_Bzzzt!_

Oliver didn’t react as his phone buzzed loudly against the glass table, though a couple of jumpy board members did. Ignoring their dirty looks, he glanced at the screen surreptitiously.

‘ _Mystery gift-giver strikes again_ ,’ the text read.

Immediately, his boredom lifted.

“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,” he interrupted politely, Queen charm rising to the surface, “but I’m afraid I have a delicate matter to attend to,” he said with an apologetic smile. “My assistant’s just informed me she might have a lead on a potential anonymous donor.”

“Lies are always more believable if they contain elements of truth,” he remembered his father once saying.

 _Perhaps I’ve taken that too much to heart_ , he thought somewhat bitterly. _Look how well I lie to everyone—my family, my team, maybe even myself_.

“Of course, Mr. Queen,” a balding man with a sugary smile said as his eyes lit up greedily (Oliver could not for the life of him remember the simpering man’s name). “It’s so nice to see you care so much about your family’s legacy.”

Oliver’s eyes narrowed slightly. He was sure that last comment wasn’t meant to be complimentary, but he let it go for now.

“Thank you,” he replied instead, voice even. “Have a good afternoon, everyone.”

Striding purposefully towards the elevator banks, he texted Felicity back.

‘ _Where_ ,’ he sent simply.

‘ _It’s a bit complicated_ ,’ came the cryptic reply. ‘ _You’ll probably want to come back to see this_.’

Gut curling in trepidation, he doubled his walking speed.

‘ _Understood._ _Heading back now. Dig and I will meet you in 15._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for the record, apparently Oliver's chili is notorious in the DC universe. Check out the url below if you're interested:  
> http://dc.wikia.com/wiki/Green_Arrow's_Chili
> 
> As always, reviews are bae!
> 
> \- Ciat  
> (why yes, I abbreved my own username, but to be fair it's close-ish to my actual name, so whatever)


End file.
